The Outlaw's Widow
by praire-schooner
Summary: Two men from St. Louis arrive in North Fork looking for the widow of a former business partner. Meanwhile Mark has his own problems when his Pa seems to take a liking to the new shoolteacher. Multichap fic based off the tv series The Rifleman.
1. Chapter 1: St Louis Visitors

This is an original multi-chapter fanfiction story based off the old western TV series "The Rifleman," about a widowed father, Lucas McCain (Chuck Connors), trying to raise his young son Mark (Johnny Crawford), in the 1880's New Mexico Territory. I do not own the rights to the series, and my novel is purely fanfiction for entertainment purposes only. Hope you enjoy it. (More chapters to be added once I get them a little more ironed out - feedback appreciated, but please be kind to this humble closet writer.)

**The Outlaw's Widow: Two men come to North Fork in search of the widow of a former business partner.**

**Chapter One: St Louis Visitors**

Two neatly dressed men stepped off the stage in North Fork, a small but growing town in New Mexico Territory, not far from the Arizona border. It had been a long and bumpy ride through vast open frontier mostly dominated by large open range cattle spreads with the occasional town or settlement to be found at the end of a series of relay stations.

As Carl Smyth looked curiously around at the mostly one or two story buildings lining the wide dirt track street, his partner James Sinclair was less than enthusiastic as he brushed the dust from his pin stripped suit.

Smyth couldn't help but grin at Sinclair's distaste. "So this is North Fork."

Sinclair took a handkerchief from his vest and wiped the back on his neck irritably. "That's what that Pinkerton man said in his telegraph. Although I'm beginning to wonder what we're really paying him for."

"Heads up gents," a voice came from atop the stage. They looked up to see the stagecoach driver handing down their luggage.

As Smyth grabbed the bags, he asked, "Driver, could you direct us to a hotel of some sorts?"

The driver pointed down the wide dirt track street. "There's the Madera House just a few blocks down on the right gents. Owned by Judge Hanoven, a fine establishment as you'll ever find in North Fork."

"Thank you," Smyth replied and tipped his rounded bowler hat.

The two started walking along the worn planks of the wooden sidewalk examining the simply built shops and businesses that lined both sides of the street. North Fork provided the basic of needs but it was a far cry from the sophistication of St. Louis. Still it had a rustic charm Smyth found quaintly intriguing.

As they past the local livery stable Sinclair grumbled at the distinctive stench of horse and warm manure. Prudishly obsessive about cleanliness and always meticulous in both dress and appearance, he had an instant distaste for such crude surroundings. Sinclair as it turned out was about as blue-blooded as they got but due to recent indiscretions and some rather risky business ventures his fortune had dwindled considerably. Nevertheless, he had obstinately refused to relinquish the life style he was accustomed to, even if it meant finagling his financial situation in some rather creative ways.

Smyth, on the other hand, came from heartier working stock yet had always boasted a sharp eye for business. And though he found Sinclair's fetishes annoying at times, his social status provided Smyth with enough connections to make their symbiotic partnership lucrative.

They paused at the end of the sidewalk to allow a freight wagon carrying a load of wooden crates to lumber by. A mangy looking dog ambled up to them and sniffed Sinclair's shoe leaving drool all over the top of the shinny patent leather.

"Uugh!" He declared in disgust and landed the toe of his shoe firmly into the animal's side. The dog yelped and scurried away. "Mangy mutt!" he muttered wiping his shoe clean with his handkerchief.

Smyth just chuckled.

The two crossed the street. Up ahead they could see a two-story whitewashed clap board building with a large gilded sign painted over the entrance that read Madera House.

"There it is," Smyth said.

As they entered the hotel and walked up to the desk, a thin older man dressed in a white shirt and paisley vest greeted them warmly. "Welcome gentleman to the Madera. May I help you?"

"We'd like two rooms."

"Certainly. If you'll just sign in." The desk clerk opened the registrar book and turned it around.

"Are you gentlemen here in North Fork on business or pleasure?"

"Business." Smyth dipped the pen in the ink well and signed his name.

"That's wonderful sir. North Fork is a fast growing community and we are always looking for new businesses to start up. Why, just last year Mr. Hamilton opened up the bank. It's really done a lot for local business."

Smyth nodded. "Seems like a nice pleasant little town." He handed the pen to Sinclair.

"Oh it is sir. Will you be staying with us long gentlemen?"

"Oh, we're not sure, a few days maybe," Smyth replied.

The desk clerk blotted the ink dry then examined their signatures. "Mr. Smyth and Mr. Sinclair, from St. Louis I see."

"Yes."

"We have adjoining rooms available sirs if you're interested."

"That would be fine."

The desk clerk took two keys down from the peg board. "Here you go, gentlemen, rooms five and six upstairs over looking the street. I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If you gentlemen are hungry we start serving dinner in the restaurant at 5 pm."

As Smyth took the keys he inquired pleasantly. "Tell me, do you get many visitors here?"

"Oh indeed, sir, with the regular stage line coming through almost everyday now. Some days we're quite full. Although most people are just stopping over on their way further west, we do have our fair share of regulars," the clerk boasted proudly.

Smyth nodded. His eyes shifted briefly to his partner before leaning nonchalantly against the counter. "You seem to be quite knowledgeable about the going-ons in this fair town," he continued conversationally.

"Yes sir. I guess you could say that."

"Then I wonder if you might be able to help me then?" Smyth asked pleasantly.

"I'll certainly be happy to try."

Sinclair watched his partner closely. Where Sinclair's nature was rather aloof and arrogant, Smyth tended to be friendly and congeal. "My colleague and I were wondering if you remember a woman that might have stopped here a month or so ago, by the name of Julia Novak. She's a brunette, slim, in her late twenties, very proper."

The clerk's face bunched up in thought for several seconds. "I'm sorry, but the name doesn't sound familiar. Of course we have had quite a number of people passing through. Is it important?"

"Only to her," Smyth paused, "a probate matter having to do with the death of a family member. It's one of the reasons we are here. My colleague and I were asked by a dear friend of ours back East to see if we could locate her while we were traveling through. We have some rather important papers for her."

"I'm sorry I can't be of any help gentlemen."

Smyth leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering an octave. "Oh, but perhaps you could after all."

"I don't understand."

"I know I sound a little forward, but perhaps we could just glance through your registrar to see if she might have checked in here."

The desk clerk straightened up his face appearing stern. He closed the book. "I'm afraid that is highly irregular. Judge Hanoven owns this hotel and I'm not sure he would approve of such a request."

"I understand," Smyth reassured. "We certainly don't want to get you into any trouble. And normally I wouldn't press the issue but this is rather important to the lady. She doesn't know it, but Miss Novak stands to inherit a sizeable amount from her uncle's estate. I'm sure she would be very appreciative if we were able to contact her." Smyth voice was imploringly pleasant.

The desk clerk bit his bottom lip and thought long and hard. The two men appeared to be well dressed and proper gentlemen. After several seconds he finally said, "Well... perhaps I could go through the names myself and tell you if she was a guest here."

Smyth waved his hand at the registrar in agreement. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sinclair smile briefly. "That would be very helpful."

It took the clerk a few minutes to scan the pages going a few months back. A frown appeared on his mouth. He looked up. "I'm sorry gentlemen; I don't see her name listed."

"Are you sure?" Sinclair pressed firmly stepping closer.

The desk clerk seemed a little startled by Sinclair's tone. Smyth turned and gave his partner a hard glance. "Quite so."

"Is this the only hotel in town?" Smyth inquired pleasantly.

"With the exception of a few boarding houses, we're the only one sir."

"Thank you."

Smyth started to leave then paused and put his finger to his lip. "Just one more thing."

The clerk eyed him suspiciously.

Smyth dug into his vest pocket and laid several silver dollars on the counter. The clerk's eyes widened but remained silent. In a low tone he continued, "If you should happen to remember anything more, we would be most appreciative if you could contact us discreetly."

Suspiciously he looked at the two men. "May I ask why?"

"Certainly, we really have no secrets. It's just that Miss Novak left her family on rather unfriendly terms. It was her uncle's deathbed desire to try and reconcile the past, hence the inheritance. We don't wish to scare her away until we are able to speak with her first and deliver the papers. After that it will be up to her whether she chooses to contact her family."

Smyth pushed the silver coins closer to the clerk. After several long seconds the man took the money. "Well, I don't suppose that would be too unreasonable a request."

"Thank you. We'll be in town on some other business for a few days if you should think of anything."

As they collected their room keys, Sinclair asked, "Is there any place to wash some of the trail dust from our throats? That stage coach ride was pretty dusty."

"There's Sweeny's just down the street."

"Thanks."

The two men walked upstairs to check out their accommodations. The rooms provided the very basics in needs, but at least were clean. Smyth looked out the window. He had an unobstructed view of North Fork's main street. Satisfied he let the lace curtain drop. Sinclair joined him a few minutes later and the two headed for Sweeny's Saloon.

"Mark! Mark! You got a bite!" the enthusiastic voice piped out.

Twelve year old Mark sprang up from his leisurely position in the tall grass along the bank of the pond as he felt the tug on his fishing line. As he excitedly pulled back on the fishing pole he could see the sleek glistening body of the fish break the water. "Jumpin' Johosaphat! It's a big one Billy."

"Don't loose it Mark!" Billy exclaimed anxiously as he tugged on the line.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Mark replied and a moment later landed the fish on the grassy bank.

Billy pounced on it before it could flop back in the water. He held up the wiggling trout with a wide grin across his rounded freckled face. "What a 'beaut!"

Mark knelt down beside his friend, his brown eyes just as excited. "I think this is the biggest one I've caught yet."

"Didn't I tell ya this was a great spot?"

"Wait 'till I show this to Pa," Mark exclaimed as he transferred the fish from his pole to the string holding four other glistening catches.

"You wanna come back Saturday?"

"You bet!" Then Mark suddenly frowned. "'Course I did promise Pa I'd paint the porch beams Saturday and finish chopping that core of wood."

"Aw Mark can't ya do it later?"

Mark vehemently shook his head. "Ya know I can't. When my pa tells me to do something he expects it to be done."

Billy flopped back in the grass and dug a small paper sack of juju bees out of his pocket. He popped one in his mouth and offered one to his friend. "Gee Mark, your pa sure is strict."

Mark smiled. He couldn't deny that.

Mark sucked on the piece of candy. "It not so bad, really. It takes a lot to run a ranch, and with just Pa and me, well, he counts on me to do my fair share. Besides, a least I don't have to share a house with five sisters."

Billy snorted in agreement. One of eight children all crammed into a very small house, Billy was always having to share everything as well as being bossed around by five older sisters.

"Look," Mark continued. "It shouldn't take me more than a couple of hours. I could meet ya back here before noon on Saturday."

"Okay. But, how about we stop by my house anyway? I'm starving and I saw my ma coring apples for a pie this morning."

Mark's eyes widened, his mouth watered. He loved apple pie. "Sounds good to me." But as he was putting his trout on the string line he groaned.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to stop by Nels!"

"So do it later," Billy shrugged.

"I can't." It was getting late and as much as Mark wanted a piece of Billy's mom's apple pie, he knew he better not dare. "I better get going!"

Billy sighed. "Well I guess I'll see you at school then." The younger boy picked up his string of fish and the two friends waved goodbye.

A long bar stood on the far side of the room with a dozen or so card tables scattered throughout. About a dozen men were present, most grouped together at the card tables. The two men walked up to the end of the bar away from the crowd.

"Two beers," Smyth requested.

Sweeny, a lean man with thinning hair and a hard, but friendly face produced their drinks, then went back to the other side of the bar to help another customer.

Smyth sipped his beer slowly but Sinclair looked agitated. "I telling you I'm getting pretty sick and tired of traveling from one stinkin' little town to the next without any luck! Are you sure that Pinkerton man's right this time," he complained.

Smyth pulled the telegraph from his vest pocket and re-read it. "Says right here a woman fitting Julia's description boarded the stage in Sante Fe. Her ticket went all the way through to North Fork."

"But it doesn't make any sense, why would Julia pick such a God Forsaken place as this?"

"For that very reason my friend. She knew she couldn't stay in St. Louis and that we'd have too many connections in the East for comfort, so it would make since she'd travel west. We'll make some inquires in town to the local businesses. Maybe they'll remember her."

The two men finished their drinks and were heading out of the saloon. As they neared the swinging doors Sinclair paused. "Are you sure she's got them with her? Novak was pretty slick."

"She has them all right, otherwise why would she have run? And when we find her she's going to pay dearly."

"I don't like it." Sinclair said as he put his hand on the swinging door.

"You don't have to. Just keep your cool and before you know it that little Eastern bred hussy is going to make us rich," Smyth replied.

Sinclair irritably pushed opened the swinging doors and stepped out. Immediately he barreled into something. Sinclair looked down to see he'd knocked over a kid. A boy of about twelve looked up startled, about a half dozen trout lying next to him on the sidewalk. "Watch where you're going kid," Sinclair growled.

It was then he smelled a rather pungent aroma. He looked down to find his vest covered in slimy fish juice and dirt. His face contorted in disgust as he pulled the material away from his body. "Why you little brat, look what's you've done!" he said and grabbed the boy by the arm, squeezing tightly.

Wincing, he uttered a hasty apology. "I'm sorry, mister. I didn't see ya comin' out."

"Well maybe next time you'll learn to look," Sinclair sneered and raised his hand in the air to strike him. A frightened look appeared on the boy's face as he tried to wiggle away.

But just then, from across the street, Smyth noticed a man with a silver star affixed to his chest start walking purposefully over. Reaching out, he quickly restrained his partner.

As the Marshal approached, his eyes were narrowed in displeasure."Is there a problem here gentlemen?" he inquired gruffly.

At Smyth's hard glare, Sinclair reluctantly released the kid. The boy stumbled backwards then hurriedly bent down to collect the fish he'd dropped. As he rose, he brushed the hair out of his eyes with nervous fingers.

"No problem at all Marshal, just helping the boy up is all," Sinclair said between clenched teeth.

"Didn't appear that way to me," the Marshal said skeptically, his mouth turned down into a frown.

"Yes well, I would like to apologize for my partner," Smyth interjected his voice calm and pleasant. "We've been on the stage for the better part of four days now and I guess we're both a little irritable."

The Marshal gauged the two men carefully. He could see Sinclair was still annoyed. "Your friend better learn to curb his temper, or I might have to cool it with a few days in jail," the Marshal quipped.

"I assure you Marshal, it was just a momentary lapse," Smyth replied.

"Hmmm," was all the Marshal said as he eyed Sinclair doubtfully.

The Marshal then realized the boy was still hovering around next to him. He looked sternly down at him. "Mark what are you doing here anyway?"

Mark hooked a thumb in his pocket. "I…I was just on my way to Nels to pick up the ax blade Pa wanted. I plumb near forgot about it, that's why I was hurryin'."

"I can see that," the Marshal said examining the string of fish. "You better get going boy before you get into any more trouble, especially with your Pa."

"Yes sir," Mark said. Then Mark turned to Sinclair. "I'm real sorry mister. I sure didn't mean to bump into ya."

Sinclair threw him a scathing look, making Mark swallow hard. He took one last look at the two strangers and hurried off.

The Marshal remained.

"Is there something else, Marshal?" Smyth inquired.

He looked from one man to the other before settling on Sinclair. "Yes," he said slowly. "I'd like to give you two a friendly piece of advice. Most folks around here don't cotton to their kids being manhandled, but _especially_ that boy's Pa."

"What's so special about him?" Sinclair quipped.

The Marshal gave the man a serious look. "If you knew anything about Lucas McCain you wouldn't ask. I suggest you take my advise."

"We are sorry Marshal. It was simply a misunderstanding." Smyth repeated.

"Hmmm. Just see to it that it doesn't happen again," the Marshal said firmly.

"You needn't worry," Smyth assured and he and Sinclair headed back for the hotel.

Marshal Micah Torrance watched the men closely for several seconds before continuing his rounds. Micah was known to possess a good instinct when it came to judging a man. Though the two were well dressed and proper, Micah had a gut feeling about these two that told him to keep an eye out for them. He'd seen plenty of men dressed in sheep's clothing before. And the two had been lucky it had been Micah and not Lucas who come across them. He knew Lucas would have not tolerated such things when it came to matters of the boy.

Once across the street and out of the marshal's sight, Sinclair grabbed Smyth by the arm, halting him. But Smyth brushed the man's hand away. "Not here," he muttered under his breath, then smiled pleasantly and tipped his hat as two women walked by. "We're here to do a job remember that," he said in a low calm voice.

"I don't like anyone telling me what to do!" Sinclair said irritably.

"Look, we don't need any extra trouble or anything else drawing further attention to us. As far as anyone has to know we're just a couple a businessmen. I want to keep it like that."

"So how are we going to find her? I'm getting tired of this wild goose chase. And in case you've forgotten we've got some not so friendly associates waiting for us back East."

"I haven't forgotten. Don't worry; tonight I'm planning of having a look at that registrar again. She might have checked in under another name. For now let's just play it cool." Smyth dug his pocket watch for his vest. "Come on, the restaurant will be serving dinner soon. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Smyth then wrinkled his nose then looked at his partner. "However, you might think about changing friend. Frankly you stink!"

Sinclair pulled at his vest in disgust. "This was my best suit. If I every see that brat again, I'll show him!"

"You'll leave him be," Smyth said firmly. "No use stirring up additional trouble." Smyth took off towards the hotel.

Sinclair glared at Smyth's retreating back. He hated kids!

Back at the McCain ranch, Lucas watched as Mark raced down the hill on his sorrel pony and across the wooden bridge that ran over the creek and up the incline towards their small wooden ranch house. He brought Blue Boy quickly to a halt near the barn and jumped down.

Lucas stopped what he was doing and looked irritably up.

"Sorry I'm late Pa," Mark quickly apologized.

"Mark, you were supposed to be home hours ago!"

"I know. But Billy and I went fishing and well, I kinda lost tract of time."

"Did you pick up the ax blade from Nels?"

Mark reached into his saddle bag. "I've got it right here. That's why I'm so late. I had to go back into town and pick it up."

He handed it to his father then went back to his horse to retrieve the string of fish. "They were really bittin' today Pa," Mark said smiling proudly.

Lucas saw the look of joy on his sons face. Remembering what it was like to be a boy Lucas found it hard to stay mad him. Nonetheless, he expected his son to do what he was told. He sighed. "Well, take them out back and clean them up. Then get busy with your chores!"

"Yes, sir."

As Mark headed around back Lucas called out. "And make sure you fix that chicken coup! I'm tired of chasing those hens down."

"I will Pa."

Mark took off and Lucas shook his head. He just didn't know what to do with that boy sometimes.

Lucas went back to work trying to repair the corral post. Last week one of the mares had been spooked by a lightening storm that had only brought the promise of rain and had broken one of the hinges. Lucas thought he could repair it himself, but it was looking like he'd need to get a new one. He rigged a temporary fix to the gate using some bailing wire.

After cleaning the fish, Mark spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to catch up on his chores. There was always a lot to do on the ranch and his Pa relied on him to do his fair share. Not that Mark minded. He really did enjoy working with his Pa.

Later they had fresh trout for dinner. Over dinner Lucas told Mark he'd be out most of the day tomorrow checking the fence line along the north forty but he'd be in town in the afternoon to pick up some supplies. After they finished eating Mark quickly got up and started clearing the table.

"What's your hurry son?" Lucas asked as he lingered over his coffee. He'd never seen his son so eager to do the dishes.

Mark stopped what he was doing and looked a little guiltily at his Pa. "I didn't finish all my work in class today. I've got a lot of homework and we're supposed to have a spellin' test tomorrow."

Lucas raised his brow. He set his cup down on the table. "If you had a lot of homework, what were you doing going fishing then?"

"It was just supposed to be for a little while, honest Pa, but they were biting so good." Seeing the disapproving look on his father's face, Mark hurriedly pumped water into the sink. "I'll get to it soon as I'm done with the dishes, I promise Pa."

His father sighed. "I'll do the dishes tonight, Mark. You get started on your homework otherwise you'll be up half the night." Lucas rose and took the dishtowel from his son's hand. "But, you owe me an extra night, you hear?" he said firmly gesturing his finger at Mark's chest.

Mark wet his lips "Yes sir." He retrieved his school books and sat down at the table. But despite his determination, Mark couldn't help but start yawning half way through his homework. It was history and he hated it.

By the time Mark was finished going over his spelling words to Lucas' satisfaction it was quite late in the evening. He was yawning widely as he put his things neatly away.

Lucas came over and put his hands gently on his son's shoulders. "Finished?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you better head for bed son."

"All right," Mark said tiredly. "Goodnight Pa."

As Mark changed into his nightshirt and climbed into bed he remembered the two men he'd run into in front of the saloon. Something about them had left Mark a little uneasy and he had wanted to talk to his pa about them. He yawned tiredly, his eyes growing heavy. He'd talked to Lucas tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2: The Unlucky Salesman

Chapter 2: The Unlucky Salesman

Later that night, after the hotel guest had gone to bed, Smyth and Sinclair made their way down to the Madera's lobby, the only light coming from few small oil lamps near the front door which illuminated the empty foyer in a soft faint glow.

Quietly they made their way around to the front desk which was just to the right of the stairs. To the left of the counter was a closed door marked "office - private". With Sinclair keeping lookout for anyone coming down the stairs, Smyth lit a match and searched around under the chest high counter until he spotted what he was looking for on the first shelf below the desk. He withdrew the hotel's registrar just as the flame reached the end of the matchstick. The two were briefly plunged into darkness until Smyth lit a second then took on of the small oil lamps off the counter and lit it, adjusting the flame very low and setting it on the floor behind the counter. He then began flipping back through the pages searching for the date he needed.

After several minutes, Sinclair was starting to get a little itchy. "Hurry up will you. Someone's likely to come down."

"Shut up, I'm going as fast as I can." Smyth scanned the pages going back about a month before his eyes settled on something of interest. "Looky hear," he said to his partner.

Sinclair leaned over and glanced at the page. Half-way down a name caught his attention. It wasn't Julia Novak, but Julia Roberts. "Think it's her?"

"Could be. She could have changed her last name to throw us off but the date co-insides with what Pinkerton said though." There were several other female names that had checked in within the same time frame.

Smyth took a pin knife from his pocket and opened the blade.

"What are you doing?" Sinclair asked.

"We can't be sure that's her. Might be one of these others." Carefully he removed the page from the registrar close to the binding so it would be difficult to notice the missing page at first glance.

Suddenly the two men heard someone coming down the stairs. Smyth stuffed the page into his pocket and quickly extinguished the lamp as Sinclair withdrew a small handgun from a holster beneath his vest. The two crouched low behind the counter.

Heavy steps came down the stairs. Carl Browden paused at the bottom to adjust his hat. He'd been unable to sleep and after tossing and turning for the past several hours he decided a quick trip to Sweeny's for a nightcap might do him some good. The salesman was a regular customer at the Madera house stopping in North Fork at least once a month.

Sinclair tried to back further up out of sight, but as he did so the heel of his boot hit the glass lamp sitting on the floor. It clattered loudly. Smyth quickly caught it before it tipped over.

The portly man turned suddenly at the sound. "Hello, someone here?" He asked his eyes trying to peer into the darkness. He thought he saw movement in the shadows. Withdrawing his gun, the saleman walked closer to the counter his suspicions aroused. "All right whosever behind there come out with your hands up," he said firmly. "I've got a gun trained on you so no funny stuff."

Smyth motioned for Sinclair to hang back and go around to the other side of the desk. Slowly he rose with his hands up in the air being careful to keep in the shadows. The portly man kept his gun trained directly at his chest.

"All right mister. What do ya think you're doing?" the man asked.

But Smyth kept silent.

"Not talking huh?"

The man moved until he was standing close to the desk. "Move out from those shadows so I can get a good look at you, and keep those hands high in the air, mister."

Smyth remained where he was giving Sinclair a few more seconds to move around the corner of the counter.

Browden stepped towards the stranger moving up alongside the counter. "I said come out of there now before I put a piece of lead in you."

"Please don't shoot," Smyth said calmly. "I am unarmed."

"We'll just see about that mister when I can get a better look at you!"

"All right" Smyth replied. Still in the shadows, he started to move around the far end of the counter making Browden turn his back to the opposite end as kept his gun trained on the intruder. Sinclair stealthily approached the man from behind.

"I'm taking you over to the Marshal's office so…." But before the salesman could finish his sentence, his head exploded in pain as Sinclair brought the butt of his gun heavily down his head. The large man fell to the floor unconscious.

Smyth emerged from the shadows as Sinclair holstered his gun back beneath his vest. "Sorry, but I think I'll have to pass on the offer friend."

"We better get out of here before the whole hotel is awake!" Sinclair said

"In a minute," Smyth said calmly. Quickly he replaced the registrar and lamp in their original positions then went to the side door and unlocked it before re-closing the door. He then motioned to Sinclair and they quietly retreated back up to their rooms.

Micah Torrance was aroused out of bed to the pounding of a fist on his door. He rose and grabbed his gun, pulling up his suspenders as he approached the door.

"Micah! Wake up!"

The marshal peered out the shade of his window to see Fred, the hotel clerk, standing on the landing.

He quickly opened the door. "What is it Fred?"

"We need you over at the hotel pronto."

"What's happened?"

"Not sure exactly. We think someone was trying to break into the safe. One of the hotel guest surprised them, but someone bushwhacked him from behind."

"I'll be right there," Micah said, quickly throwing on the rest of his clothes. Having finished his midnight rounds, Micah had barely been in bed an hour. A few minutes later he made his way down the stairs of his one room accomadations that resided above a shop just across from the jail and headed for the Madera House with Fred anxiously following.

As he entered the lobby he saw Carl Browden sitting in a chair with a cold cloth to the back of his head. Judge Hanoven, owner of the Madera, paced back and forth in his silk robe, a cigar clamped in his mouth, while Mabel, the hostess hovered anxiously nearby also in night attire and robe.

"'Bought time you showed up, Micah," the Judge Hanoven snapped walking quickly over to the Marshal.

"Came as fast as I could, Judge," the Marshal replied calmly. He examined the back of Browden's head. He had a lump the size of a robin's egg on it. "You need the doc?"

Browden shook his head in disgust by his own stupidity. "I'll survive."

Micah looked about the small group. "Someone want to tell me what happened?"

"An attempted robbery, that's what!" the Judge snapped.

"Did ya see what happened? Who did it?"

"Well, not exactly. I was asleep. We all were," the Judge replied sourly.

Micah sighed. "Mr. Browden why don't you tell me what happened."

Browden quickly relayed his story as Micah listened intently, a frown on his face.

"Did you see who it was?"

The portly man shook his head. "No, he stayed in the shadows. Should have suspected there were two of them. Other fella got me from behind."

"Was anything taken?" Micah asked Fred.

"I don't think so. Mr. Browden must have spooked them before they had a chance," he replied.

"Where do you keep your safe Judge?"

"In the back office over here," he indicated to a room just off to the side of the counter. "The door was still locked though."

Micah examined the door, then the safe. It was a modern model and not one that could be easily opened. Knowing the Judge, he would have not settled for anything but the best. But neither the door nor the safe seemed to have been tampered with. Nevertheless he asked Judge Hanoven and Fred to check the contents inside.

"Everything's there, just the way I left it before leaving," the Judge informed Micah a few minutes later.

"How about you Mr. Browden?"

The salesman checked all his pockets quickly then gave a relieved sigh. "No my wallet and pocket watch are still here."

Micah walked over to the side door of the hotel which led out towards the alley. "Was this door locked earlier as well?"

"Of course," Fred insisted, looking rather indignant. "I locked everything up myself before I retired, both front and back doors."

Micah opened the unlocked door. "Seems they got in and out this way." He examined the lock carefully. It had not been forced open and he couldn't see any scratch marks either indicating it had been picked open though that didn't necessarily mean anything. Micah stepped into the empty alley and had a thorough look about before returning, then walked behind the counter where he absently noticed two burnt matchsticks on the floor. Everything else appeared to be in order.

Addressing the small group again, he asked. "Anybody hear anything unusual?"

Everyone shook their heads. Micah sighed. "We'll Judge, whoever it was, looks like Mr. Browden spooked them away. I don't expect they'll be trying anything more tonight?"

"Is that all you're gonna do?" Judge Hanoven demanded.

Micah eyed the Judge calmly. "What else do you want me to do, Judge?"

"We'll go after them," he insisted. "After all, that's what we're paying you for!"

"Look Judge," Micah said patiently. "If I knew who I was going after I would. But Mr. Browden can't even give a description, let alone any idea of where they took off to."

Judge Hanoven paced back and forth and sighed irritably. "I know. I'm sorry to snap at you Micah." He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "It's just that I don't like to see my valued customers being accosted."

"Ah, don't worry about me Judge Hanoven," Carl insisted. "I've got a thick head."

"The most I can do right now is wake up the rest of your guests and question each one individually. Maybe they heard or saw something."

The Judge waved his hand quickly. "No, no I don't want that. I'll be bad for business. We'll let the matter drop for now seeing as nothing was taken."

"I'll be happy make extra rounds around the hotel for the next several days just to be sure you don't have any further problems."

"Thank you Micah."

"What about you Mr. Browden?"

The big man shook his head. "I'll be all right. But if I ever catch the varmint who did this he'll be sure wishing he never crossed with me," Browden promised. Fred escorted the saleman back upstairs to his room.


	3. Chapter 3: The Slingshot

Chapter 3: The Slingshot

The next afternoon the children eagerly piled out the door of North Fork's small wooden school house and down the four steps. It was noon recess and the kids quickly dispersed in small groups to eat their lunches so they could hurry up and play. The day was windy and cool so most had on their jackets. From the north a broad band of clouds was gathering in the distance. It would probably rain later in the evening, but for now the children were eager to be outside.

"Come on, Mark," Billy urged as he and Matt took off.

Mark quickly followed the two boys around to the back of the schoolhouse. Matt quickly looked about to see if the coast was clear.

"Let's see it already!" Billy said eagerly.

From his coat pocket Matt pulled out his slingshot.

"Wow, that's a beaut!" Billy said admiring it.

"Where'd ya get it?" Mark asked curiously.

"Sid made it for me," Matt replied. Sid was Matt's older brother.

Suddenly from behind they heard a syrupy sweet voice. "Hello Mark."

All three turned around startled to see Sally Preston standing primly a short distance away, her hands laced in front of her, her head tilted to the side.

Matt quickly hid the slingshot behind him.

Seeing the girl, Mark complained. "Aw, go away Sally!"

Sally pouted. "I just wanted to know what you're doing, that's all." She looked over at Mark and smiled showing off the space from her missing front tooth.

Mark scrunched his face up. "It's none of your business!" he replied. "Why don't you just go back with the girls?"

Sally face lost its sweet charm and she put his hands indignantly on her hips. "You can't tell me what to do, Mark McCain!"

Billy stepped forward into her face. "Beat it!"

Sally sniffed. "Well, you don't have to be so rude! I was only tryin' to be friendly." She turned and walked away in a huff. However, once she was around the corner, Sally paused and poked her head back around. The boys had their backs to her so she couldn't exactly see what they were doing.

Matt sighed in relief. "That was close. Why does she do that anyway? Sneekin' up on you all the time?"

"I don't know," Mark replied. For some reason Sally Preston was always following him trying to get him into trouble. He tried to get along with her as best as he could, but she was such a pest.

"Come on, let's give it a try." Billy said.

"All right."

Matt collected some stones from the ground.

"What'll we aim for?" Matt asked.

"How 'bout those berries over there on that bush?" Mark suggested.

"All right." Matt loaded the slingshot and snapped it striking the bush. After three attempts he knocked one of the berries off.

"Let me try!" Billy said eagerly

Matt handed it to him. Billy did the same. "Gee Matt, this works great!" he said, striking a few more berries from the bush.

"It's my best one. 'Course my pa will skin me alive if he knows I've got it. He broke my other one after I accidently killed one of Ma's best laying chickens."

"You want to give it a try Mark?" Billy asked.

"Sure!" Mark took the slingshot. He was going to aim at the bush but there were no more berries on it.

Billy turned around and pointed to an old woodpecker's nest in a nearby tree. "How 'bout trying to shoot a rock in that hole?"

"All right." Mark took aim and fired. The rock hit the side of the tree. He reached down and picked up a few more stones.

As he loaded the slingshot and pulled back on the strap to fire Sally Peterson's high-pitched voice broke his concentration, startling him. "Mark McCain, what do you think you're doing?" she said bossily.

The rock released out of his grip shooting through the branches of the tree. In the next second all three boys heard the sound of glass shattering.

Mark winced painfully. Sally's mouth dropped open. Matt and Billy took one look at each other and fled. Sally took one look at Mark then turned and raced towards the schoolhouse causing Mark to groan inwardly. A few moments later Miss Hunter, the schoolteacher, came out with Sally trailing her skirt tails. Mark noticed the front of her skirt was wet.

"He did it Miss Hunter," Sally said dramatically pointing to Mark. "I saw the whole thing."

Mark stood guilty before the schoolteacher, the slingshot still in his hand. Several kids raced over to see what all the commotion was about. "I….I'm sorry Miss Hunter," he apologized feeling his face flush in embarrassment.

Miss Hunter looked disapprovingly down at him and held her hand out. Slowly he placed the slingshot in her palm.

"Are you gonna give him the switch, Miss Hunter?" Sally asked.

"Thank you Sally, but I think I can handle it from here."

"You're in big trouble now, Mark McCain!" Sally chimed. Mark threw her an irritable look. From behind Miss Hunter's skirt Sally stuck her tongue out.

Miss Hunter turned her head around and Sally straightened up primly. "Sally, that will be sufficient. Please return to the play yard."

"But…"

"Now Sally, unless you wish to share a similar fate as Mr. McCain here."

Sally took off, but not before throwing Mark a satisfied glance. Mark clenched his fist at his side. She was such a pest.

Miss Hunter addressed the rest of the children present. "That goes for the rest of you," she said sternly. The children moaned but quietly dispersed back to the play yard.

Once alone Mark could feel the weight of Miss Hunter's stare on him as heavy as iron rails. He glanced up at her. "I didn't mean to break the window Miss Hunter, honest. I was aiming for the hole in the tree."

She shook her head and sighed. "Mark McCain, what am I going to do with you?"

"I'll pay to have the window replaced, honest Miss Hunter."

The schoolteacher clasped her hands in front of her, her mouth tight with disapproval. "You realize you're father will have to be told."

Mark's face scrunched up again. Lucas wasn't going to be none to happy especially since Mark had just gotten off restriction a week ago for putting a frog in Sally's lunch pail. Not that she hadn't deserved it! But Mark stood straight and looked forward. "Yes, Mame." He stood stoically.

"Go and clean up the mess and whatever time you have left will be spent at your desk. You will remain after school until I finish my papers, then we will ride out together to your ranch so I can discuss this matter with your father."

Mark looked up at her. "Pa's coming into town later Mame. I'm supposed to meet him at the General Store after school."

Miss Hunter nodded. "Very well. I shall meet with him in town."

"Yes Mame." Mark hurried around to the tool shed. There he spotted Billy and Matt hiding in the bushes next to the shed. Mark threw them both an irritable glance. "Some friends you turned out to be!" he seethed.

"No use all of us getting into trouble," Matt said. "Besides, you're the one that broke the window pane."

Mark turned to Billy "But still, you're supposed to be my best friend Billy," Mark retorted back. "Best friend's stick up for one another, not run away."

Billy dropped his head to the ground, a look of hurt on his face. "I'm sorry Mark."

Mark sighed. He didn't really mean to snap at him. "It's all right. Forget it." He opened the shed to retrieve the broom and dust pan.

"So where's my slingshot?" Matt asked.

"Miss Hunter has it," Mark replied gripping the broom handle.

"Dog gone it Mark! Why'd you go and do a thing like that?"

Mark compressed his lips stubbornly. "I didn't have a choice. She made me hand it over to her."

"Are ya in a lot of trouble?" Billy asked.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I will be when my Pa finds out."

"Ya gonna get a whippin'?" Matt asked.

"My Pa's never hit me a day in his life!" Mark replied defensively.

"Then what are ya worried about?"

Mark sighed. "You don't know my Pa."

Billy nodded. Being the son of Lucas McCain was not always easy.

The three boys heard someone coming. Mark shut the shed door and gathered the supplies. "I better go. I'm supposed to be cleaning up the mess."

When Mark went inside the schoolhouse he noticed not only had the window pane been broken, but a glass pitcher on Miss Hunter's desk was shattered and there was water all over her desk. Miss Hunter was busy trying to wipe off several soaked books. The feeling of guilt crept up into his belly. Mark knew that value of school books. They were expensive and hard to freight. "I'm awful sorry Mame," he said again. He couldn't believe such a small rock could do so much damage.

"You are lucky Mr. McCain that I was not seated at my desk at the time," she reprimanded.

"Yes Mame." Mark swept up the mess as quickly as possible and even cleaned out the shard pieces of glass left in the pane.

Miss Hunter walked over to examine the window feeling the cool breeze blowing through it. She tutted. "If it rains tonight there will be water all over the floor."

"I'm sure I can get my Pa to repair it," Mark insisted.

"We shall see." Miss Hunter looked at her broach watch. "Recess is over. Please put the supplies away while I ring the bell for the class to return."

"Yes Mame."

Mark spent the next few hours listening to soft whispers and shy giggles as word got around the class. Sally looked smug and Mark knew who had spread the word faster than a wild fire through dry brush.

Miss Hunter finally tapped her yard stick firmly on the desk. "We shall have no more of this foolishness!"

Mark was glad when the class was finally dismissed for the day. After school, Miss Hunter assigned him various chores which he did without complaint.

He was outside chopping a core of wood when he heard a buckboard wagon approaching. Mark looked up to see Lucas reining the team to a halt in front of the schoolhouse. His pa set the break and jumped down from the wagon in one fluid stride. He grabbed the modified Winchester rifle he always carried with him. "Hello son. Thought I told you to meet me at Hattie's."

"I know but well…" Mark licked his lips nervously and looked back at the schoolhouse door.

Lucas looked at his son with knowing eyes. "You gonna tell me what happened son?"

Mark set the axe down and walked over to his father. He stood tall as he faced Lucas, but even so barely came chest high to his father. "I sorta broke the window pane in the schoolhouse."

Lucas' eyes narrowed. "Sorta? You either broke it or didn't."

"I did," Mark acknowledged, then hurriedly added, "But Pa, I swear it was an accident. Matt brought his slingshot to school and we were practicing, and well…I kinda missed the target. I didn't realize how close we were to the windows of the school house 'till well…I heard the glass break."

Lucas sighed irritably. "Mark…."

"Wait Pa, there's more," he said grimly. He might as well tell his Pa everything at once. "The rock broke Miss Hunter's pitcher and soaked some of her books."

Lucas looked at his son a long time. "Mark what were you thinking? You know you had no business even messing around with one of those things in town."

"I know. I'm sorry Pa."

"Sorry is a poor excuse son."

Mark stared straight ahead. He knew his father was right and refused to make any further excuses. His pa had always insisted Mark stand up like a man for his wrongs. "I know I was wrong. I'll take whatever punishment you deem fit."

Lucas sighed. "We'll talk about it later son," he replied quietly. "For now let's go inside so I can see the damage." Lucas took off his hat as he climbed the steps to the schoolhouse. At nearly six foot four, he had to duck down before entering.

Miss Hunter was at her desk grading papers and stood up as the tall lean man entered, his presence seeming to fill the room. She'd only met Mr. McCain briefly once before, but she clearly remembered him. He was not an easy man to forget. Mark followed slowly behind almost dwarfed behind his father.

Lucas smiled pleasantly and extended his hand to Miss Hunter. "Mr. McCain."

"Afternoon, Mame."

"If you have a moment, I'm afraid I need to speak with you."

Lucas looked down at Mark."I know, my son told me about the window. I also understand there were some books damaged?"

Her brow arched in surprise. She hadn't expected such honesty from the child. She glanced at Mark who stood nervously by. He did appear to be genuinely sorry. "No real harm done. I was able to dry them before any pages were permanently damaged."

Lucas nodded. "I'll see to it that all the damages have been paid for."

The schoolteacher came from around her desk crossing her arms. "Thank you." She walked over to the broken window. "But at the moment I'm more concerned about tonight if it rains."

Lucas went over to examine the pane. Mark had done a good job of cleaning the inset out. "Shouldn't be too hard to fix, Mame. I'll go over to the General Store directly and see if Hattie can order a new pane. In the meantime I'll board it up to keep out any rain tonight."

"Thank you."

"There's some scrap wood out back Pa next to the tool shed," Mark said helpfully.

"Go and fetch it boy and bring me back a hammer and some nails out of the buckboard."

Mark raced off returning a few minutes later with the necessary items.

In little time at all Lucas had the window boarded up. Miss Hunter examined it with satisfaction. "Thank you. I appreciate your assistance Mr. McCain."

"My pleasure Mame." His smile was wide and friendly.

There was a pause as if Miss Hunter were grappling with a decision. "Mr. McCain even though I realize this was merely an accident someone could have been seriously injured by that rock. I feel your son's actions do warrant a certain amount of disciplinary action." She hesitated briefly. "I would like him to remain after school for one week to do chores."

Lucas glared down at Mark. "He'll be here." Mark didn't dare contradict his father.

Miss Hunter turned to Mark. "If you don't mind Mark, I would like to have a few minutes alone with your father. Please go out and finish stacking the wood."

Mark looked at his pa. Lucas nodded and Mark started to retreat. "When you're done son, wait for me on the buckboard."

"Yes sir."

There was another pause. "Somethin' else, Mame?"

"Yes." The schoolteacher paced back and forth briefly.

"Mr. McCain, I understand that boys tend to have a rather active, if not rambunctious nature at times. It's only to be expected. But your son seems to be a little more high spirited than most of the boys lately, with the exception of one or two."

Lucas could guess which two. "I'm afraid he's at that age, Mame. But Mark's a good boy."

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a minute, Mr. McCain."

"Then what is it?"

She sighed. "Mr. McCain, I don't know quite how to put it without sounding insulting."

"I find it's just easiest to come out and say what's on your mind, Mame." Lucas smiled. He relaxed against her desk, crossing one long leg over the other and resting the rifle across his lap.

The schoolteacher walked to the center of the room feeling a little more comfortable standing a few feet away from this big man. "Very well." Miss Hunter clasped her hands together. "As you know, I've only been here for a very short while, having filled the position when Mr. Griswald was suddenly called away back East on a family emergency. I've had little time to settle in and adjust to my students."

"Go on," Lucas invited aware he could be intimidating.

"I've discovered that though your son is not my smartest pupil, he is nonetheless a very bright and intelligent boy. He simply lacks the discipline to live up to his full potential."

"I can't argue with you there. I'm afraid Mark is more interested in horses and fishing than books."

"Yes, I know," she said softly. "Nevertheless a good education is important."

"I couldn't agree more."

Miss Hunter paused again. "I understand you are a widower, Mr. McCain?"

"Yes, my wife passed away several years back."

"It must be hard to raise a boy without a maternal influence."

"It can be, but we manage."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Mr. McCain. I think you're doing a fine job with your son, as evidenced by the high regard he has for you. It's just that it's my job to see that each and every child is given the full opportunity for a proper education." She sighed. "Your son's recent antics have caused some disruption in my class. The frog in Sally's lunch box last week, a few weeks ago he and Billy throwing spit wades at each other and the snake incident."

"Snake incident?"

"Your son thought it would be amusing to put a snake in Lily Tomlin's rain boots."

"I didn't know about that one."

"He didn't exactly admit to it, but one of my students said she saw it in his hand."

Lucas sighed. "I'll speak to him."

"Thank you, Mr. McCain. You see in the short time I've been here, I've discovered most people seem to look up to you and treat you with high regard."

"Well, North Fork is my home. I don't see why a man shouldn't put some effort into the community he's living in."

"Of course, I didn't mean to imply otherwise. It's an admirable quality. I've noticed that many of the children seem to regard your son in a similar light."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not in and of itself. It's just that your son seems to set an example for the rest of the children. And believe me I understand a boy's nature can be a little wild sometimes. I would just prefer it not be done during class hours."

Lucas nodded in understanding. "I'll see that it won't happen again."

"Thank you." Then Miss Hunter added sincerely. "But please don't be too harsh on him. Your son is really a fine young man."

Lucas nodded and smiled warmly making Miss Hunter feel more at ease. The schoolteacher even managed to smile back. Perhaps this big man wasn't so unapproachable after all. "Now with that matter put aside, I wonder if I could speak to you on a personal matter."

"Go ahead."

"I recently moved from the boarding house into a small house a little ways from here. I believe it was the old Garrison home."

Lucas nodded. "I'm familiar with it."

"It's in need of some repair. And, I'm afraid I'm your stereotypic Eastern bred female. I know absolutely nothing about home repair or even where to start with the limited funds I have available. I was wondering if you knew of anyone who could assist me at a reasonable cost?"

"I'll be happy to see what needs to be done Mame."

"Oh, Mr. McCain I really didn't mean to imply you should…."

"You didn't. I'm offering. As a member of the town council I should have thought of it earlier."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. McCain."

"Please call me Lucas."

Miss Hunter smiled warmly. "Lucas then."

"I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon if that's all right?"

"That would be fine."

Lucas said his goodbyes and left.

Mark had finished stacking the wood and was waiting anxiously for his pa on the buckboard. When he saw Lucas come out he sat up quickly. "You were in there an awful long time Pa."

Lucas climbed aboard the wagon setting the rifle in a specially made holder in front. "Appears Miss Hunter has had a few too many of your antics lately, including a snake I didn't know about."

Mark whipped around in his seat. "Honest Pa, I didn't put that snake in Lily's boots. It crawled in there all by itself. I only found it. Besides it was only a little harmless garden snake." Mark paused then eyed his father. "Are ya mad at me Pa?" he asked softly.

Lucas shook his head ruefully. "No. But let's see that it doesn't happen again. I pay good money every month for you to go to school. I intend to get my money's worth out of you, understand?" Lucas gave Mark that no nonsense look he knew all to well.

"Yes sir."

Lucas picked up the reins and turned the team around heading back towards the center of town. "Aren't we going back to the ranch?"

Lucas shook his head. "I still need to pick up those supplies from Hattie and I want to stop in and see Henry Waller for a minute. I need to have the sights checked on the rifle."


	4. Chapter 4: Hattie

Chapter 4: Hattie

A short while later Lucas pulled up in front of Henry Waller & Son Gunsmith then handed the reins to Mark. "Take the team over to Hattie's and see about that pane. I'll be over in a minute to help load the supplies." Lucas looked up at the increasingly dark sky. "I want to get back to the ranch before it starts to rain."

"All right Pa." Mark set the horses in motion. He'd been able to handle a wagon and full team with ease since he was ten.

Lucas walked into the gunsmith shop. Henry Waller was at his workbench talking with his son Jeffery, a boy about Mark's age. Henry looked up and smiled as he saw Lucas. "Hi, Luke. How's everything at the ranch?"

"No complaints other than I never seem to get caught up on the work." Lucas looked over at Henry's son who was busy trying to fit a barrel to a newly carved rifle butt. "Looks like you've got yourself a fine apprentice."

Henry squeezed his son's shoulders. "Yes, he's been asking a lot of questions lately so I felt it was about time to learn the boy a trade. What can I do for you today?"

Lucas handed Henry his rifle. It was a modified Winchester. Lucas had designed it himself with a specialized loop action trigger. It could be cocked and fired in one smooth move using a specially designed pin mechanism against the squeeze trigger making the rifle as fast as any hand gun around. It was also equipped with a Henry magazine that could shoot off seven rounds before needing to be reloaded. There was probably none like it anywhere else.

"I need the sights checked and calibrated. I notice its aim is off a little to the left."

Henry took the rifle and admired it. He'd never seen anything quite as impressive and he was honored Lucas put his trust in him. He also knew Lucas hated to be without it. "Looks like one of the sights is bent. If you can wait a few minutes, I'll check it right now."

Lucas nodded.

Henry took it back to his workbench were Jeffery stood by and watched his father with keen interest. It was a beautiful rifle and the workmanship was superb. "Lucas, I think you missed you're calling. You would have made a fine gunsmith yourself."

"No thanks Henry. Too many walls around me all day for comfort."

Henry chuckled. Using some special tools, he worked on the rifle then checked the sights and made some more adjustments. After one final check, he handed it back to Lucas. "There. I think that ought to do it."

Lucas held it up and examined the sights, satisfied. "Thanks Henry. I also need another box of shells."

"I'll get it Pa," Jeffery said and hurried back behind the counter.

After Lucas paid for the shells, he bid Henry and his son goodbye and headed for Hattie's.

Pulling up in front of the General Store, Mark reined the team to a halt and after setting the break, jumped down. From across the street he noticed the man he'd run into the day before staring at him. Mark watched him briefly before heading into the store.

"Hello Mark," the elderly lady smiled brightly as the boy entered. Hattie, the owner and proprietor, had a cheerful sunny disposition, unless of course she was riled.

"Hi Hattie. Pa sent me over for the supplies."

"Got them ready right here," she said pointing towards a couple of wooden crates.

With some effort, Mark brought the crates out and set them in the buckboard. He looked around but didn't see the man again. Mark returned to the store, his brow knit in thought. "Something else I do for you today?"

Mark suddenly remembered the broken window pane. He explained what happened. Hattie nodded in understanding, but smiled nonetheless. She leaned in next to the boy. "Your pa pretty mad at ya?"

"We'll he wasn't exactly thrilled." Mark grimaced.

Hattie laughed then patted Mark's hand in understanding. She knew how stern Lucas could be. "Well, let me go in the back and see what I've got."

"Thanks Hattie." Hattie was one of the few people Mark he didn't address as Miss or Mame, only because Hattie down right insisted on it. She disliked the title. At nearly sixty and a widow for longer than she cared to remember, Miss Hattie just didn't seem to fit her. So just plain Hattie it was.

While Hattie was in the back, Mark wandered about the store as he waited. He always enjoyed looking at all the store bought things. But eventually his eyes wandered over to the line of candy jars on the counter.

When Hattie returned she watched Mark with an almost grandmotherly affection. She ambled over. "See anythin' interestin'?"

Mark smiled up at her. "They all look so good."

Hattie leaned her elbows on the counter. "What would ya like?"

"No thank you Hattie."

The storekeeper raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What? Are ya sick youngin' turnin' down a sweet treat?"

Mark shrugged. "I used up all my allowance 'till next week and I have a feeling I won't be getting any more for quite some time 'till I pay for that window I busted."

Hattie tutted. "It ain't right for a boy not to have a sweet treat every once and a while. You go ahead and pick somethin' out."

"Really?" Mark asked a little hesitantly.

Hattie nodded with a big smiled on her face and waved her hand in front of the jars. Mark examined all the containers again and finally settled on some rock candy. As he was reaching into the jar Lucas walked in followed by Marshal Torrance.

"Mark!"

He quickly withdrew his hand. There was such a look of guilt on his face that Hattie tutted reproachfully. "Now Lucas, quit your belly achin'. I said the boy could pick out whatever he wanted." She then turned to the Marshal. "Hello Micah," she said pleasantly.

The Marshal tipped his hat to the elderly lady trying to repress a smile. "Afternoon Hattie."

Lucas approached the counter. "Hattie, you're spoiling him," he tried to explain.

"Well somebody's got to," she snipped back. Though Lucas towered well above her, Hattie was not the least intimidated. "Besides, all I've got at home is a finicky cat named Penelope who could care less if I'm there half the time or not. So don't deny an old woman a little pleasure in this life when she can get it!" Hattie retorted waving a finger under Lucas' nose.

Micah laughed. "Wouldn't tangle with her, Lucas boy."

Lucas raised his hands in defeat. It was no use even trying to argue with Hattie when she had her mind made up.

Mark hesitated "Can I Pa?"

Lucas nodded. "But just one, otherwise it'll spoil your dinner later."

Mark pulled out the piece of rock candy. "Thanks, Hattie."

"Anytime Mark."

"Did ya need anything Micah?"

Micah shook his head. "Just makin' my rounds. Ran into Lucas coming out of the gun shop a few minutes ago."

Hattie turned her attention to Lucas. "Mark explained what happened. I got a few panes in the back that should fit."

"Fine, I'll drop by tomorrow and pick one up. I'll be back in town anyway."

Mark looked at his father with surprise. Through a mouth full of sweet candy he said. "But I though you had fences to mend on the north forty?"

"It can wait a day. Miss Hunter needs some work done on her house and I told her I'd see what I could do."

"Oh," Mark said, not quite sure what to think of that.

Micah arched his brow watching the two McCain men.

"Something wrong son?" Lucas asked curiously leaning on the counter. There was amusement in his voice.

Mark took the candy out of his mouth and stared at his father. "No, it's just that you've been complaining something awful lately about how much work there is pilin' up back at the ranch."

"Well it still doesn't hurt to be neighborly, Mark. After all, Miss Hunter did do us a big favor coming out here on such short notice."

In fact the town council had been quite lucky Miss Hunter had responded to Mr. Griswald's inquiry. The former teacher was reluctant to leave with the new school year starting so soon, but had little choice. Miss Hunter's response had come none too soon.

"I know, but it just seems strange that's all. I mean her bein' a _teacher_ and everythin'." The way Mark said teacher sounded like the woman had two heads.

Hattie laughed.

"Well, as a member of the town council, I think it's only right we all should help Miss Hunter get settled."

Micah cleared his throat. "And the fact that she happens to be mighty pretty to look at as well didn't help your decision anyway, did it Lucas boy?" he chimed in.

Lucas merely laughed.

Mark fidgeted uncomfortably. He never thought of Miss Hunter in that respect. After all she was _his teacher_. His face screwed up at the thought. Mark was transparently readable.

"Teachers don't all have to be prudish and homely," Hattie said. "Besides I'm glad your pa feels that way 'cause I was of the mind to speak to him about that very subject anyway."

Lucas glanced over at the elderly woman and his eyes narrowed. He saw that determined look on her face and groaned inwardly. "And just what would that be about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, as you know the woman's auxiliary is putting on a barn dance next week to raise funds for new books for the school."

Lucas winked at Micah and leaned against the counter. "Why Hattie, are you trying to ask me out?"

Hattie slapped Lucas lightly on the shoulder. "Don't you sass me Lucas McCain. Besides if I was about 25 years younger I just might take you up on that!" She straightened her apron out.

Mark laughed.

"No, I was referrin' to Miss Hunter."

Both McCain men looked up. Micah hid a laugh on the pretext of clearing his throat.

"What about Miss Hunter?"

Hattie looked at Lucas irritably. "Don't be difficult. You said yourself we should all make an effort to make Miss Hunter feel welcome." She gestured her hands outward for effect. "Well this is a perfect opportunity to do just that. It'll be good for her to meet with the town folk in a social setting."

"But why me?" Lucas asked.

Hattie compressed her lips tightly. Honestly, sometimes Lucas McCain could just rile her something awful. "Why not you, ya big dope! Despite your somewhat sour disposition at times, you'd be a perfect escort. You're a member of the town council and a widower with a nice pleasant young boy."

"What's that got to do with it?"

Hattie balled her fist and placed them on her hips. "Lucas McCain. When was last time you've been out on date?"

"Hattie!" Lucas said raising his finger in the air in warning.

"You can scowl at me all ya want to but the fact remains you and that poor boy here," she dramatically waved to Mark sitting silently watching the exchange, "are cooped up out there on that ranch all by yourselves."

"Mark and I do just fine by ourselves, don't we son?"

"We sure do!" Mark insisted.

Hattie crossed her arms. "Nevertheless, it wouldn't hurt you to go out with a woman every once and a while. It'll keep you civilized, and maybe help to take that scowl off your face. Land sakes, half the time ya come in here you're growlin' like a bear."

"Can you blame me, Hattie? You're not the easiest woman to deal with."

"I'm only lookin' out for the boy's interest. Without a mother, someone's gotta step in."

"And you've volunteered?"

"Lucas, ya know how fond I am of the boy," Hattie started defensively.

"I know," Lucas said softly, his voice sincere. He couldn't deny Hattie on that count. She was like a grandmother when it came to the boy. Almost as protective of him as Lucas was. And he could see she wasn't about to give up on the matter.

"I'll think about it," was Lucas' final reply.

Mark looked at his father with nothing short of surprise. He couldn't believe it. His pa was actually considering going out with his _teacher_. Mark shuttered at the thought. What would all his friends say? Mark decided it was about time to change the subject. "Don't you think we outta be gettin' home Pa," he said hurriedly. "You said yourself it looked like it was going to rain anytime."

"So I did. Come on son," he said carrying the rifle out.

"Don't take too long in deciding to ask Miss Hunter out now you hear?" Hattie called out to Lucas' backside.

Lucas rolled his eyes as Micah stepped out with him smirking. "See ya around Lucas boy," the Marshal said before continuing on with his rounds.

As they two McCains climbed aboard the wagon Mark asked, "Pa, you're not really thinkin' of going out with Miss Hunter are ya?"

Lucas sat down on the bench seat and stared straight ahead with a kinda thoughtful look on his face. An almost wistful smile seemed to cross his Pa's face. It was several long seconds before he answered. "I don't know son. I'll have to give it some thought," he replied snapping the reins to put the team in motion.

Mark didn't much like the answer as Lucas headed the team out of town. A few drops of water suddenly hit his cheeks reminding them of the impending rainstorm. Mark hoped they would get back to the ranch before he was soaking wet.

From across the street the departing pair were being watched. Sinclair leaned against the corner of the saloon building near the alley which was situated diagonally from the general store. He'd seen the kid pull up in the wagon. A short time later Sinclair noticed the tall man entering the store with the marshal. He hung further back in the ally out of sight and waited.

Some time later he'd watched the three exit the shop. Sinclair's gaze had focused on the tall man still carrying the fancy looking rifle. So that must be the kid's pa, Sinclair had determined. It was also obvious that he and the Marshal were friends. Once the buckboard was driven out of sight, Sinclair had turned and disappeared.

By the time the two McCains had crested the hill and headed down towards their small ranch house the light rain which started soon after they left town was now a steady downpour along with gusts of wind which left both soaked by the time they pulled up in front of the barn.

Mark hurried to help his father un-hitch the team and while he got them settled for the night with fresh feed, Lucas stowed the gear properly away in the tack room. Before leaving, Lucas made sure all the barn windows and doors were secure before the two of them raced across the clearing and onto the wooden porch of their small ranch house.

Mark's teeth were chattering as he pulled off his jacket. Lucas grabbed a towel for himself and tossed one to Mark. He quickly dried his hair and, leaving the towel around his neck, set about building a fire. Meanwhile, Mark lit a match to the kindling in the stove and after pumping water into a pot, set in on top to boil. Soon a warm fire was crackling in the stone hearth. Lucas removed his jacket and shirt and hung them on some hooks near the fire to dry. Mark peeled out of his shirt and did the same.

Bare-chested he stood by the fire trying to warm up. The wind was now howling outside, whipping the rain up against the house. "Sure is quite a storm," Mark said as he finished toweling himself dry, glad to be inside.

"First good rain of the season, son," Lucas replied tossing his son a dry shirt.

Once the water had boiled, Lucas prepared a quick supper for the two of them. Despite his bachelor status, he was not a bad cook. An hour later a steaming pot of beef stew was placed on the table. Mark dug in heartily, the meal warming his belly. During supper he thought his father might bring up the subject of the window again, but Lucas seemed satisfied to let the matter be having said his peace. Though Mark considered his father stern at times, he was usually fair in his judgments.

After supper, Mark cleared the table. It was his turn to do the dishes again and did so without complaint. Afterwards he spent an hour finishing his homework.

Lucas reclined back in his leather chair and, as he often did in the evenings, pulled a cigar out and lit it. Soon the familiar aroma drifted through the room. Lucas picked up a book off the small circular table next to his chair and before settling down to read glanced briefly at the photograph in the silver frame. It was a picture of Mark's mother. As always it brought a fond look to Lucas' face. Mark only remembered a little about her, something he felt guilty about at times, but he'd only been six when she died. But Lucas kept her memory alive for both of them by talking about her often. Mark knew his mother had been very special to his pa.

When Mark finished with his homework, Lucas told him to get ready for bed. Once in his nightshirt though, Mark wandered back into the small living room and sat, as he often did, on the arm of his father's chair remebering something he'd been meaning to ask his Pa about earlier. "Pa?"

"Hmm?" Lucas replied distractedly, engrossed in his book.

"What's a hussy?"

Lucas' head snapped up. "Where on earth did you hear a word like that?" His pa demanded.

Mark looked up at his father a little startled by his pa's tone. He shrugged, "By the saloon yesterday."

Lucas' eyes narrowed. "And what were you doing over at the saloon?" he asked in a brusque voice.

"Nothing," Mark insisted. "I mean I was passing by on my way to Nels to pick up that axe blade you needed and these two men came out. I accidentally bumped into one of them." Mark had already decided not to tell Lucas about what happened after that figuring it'll only stir up his Pa. "They were talking and I heard that word and wondered what it meant."

Lucas rubbed his forehead. His son never ceased to surprise him "It's a word you shouldn't be using, especially in front of decent folks."

Mark compressed his mouth. "I figured that much out. I am twelve you know. But what does it mean?"

Lucas raised one eyebrow in surprise but soon realized his son wasn't going to drop the matter without a proper answer. "It's a word used to describe a woman unfavorably."

"Like how?"

"Mark."

"Pa, you always told me if I don't understand something to ask. How am I ever going to learn otherwise?"

Lucas sighed. It was true. It was one of the things they had an understanding about. So, as delicately as he could Lucas explained the meaning. "And I better not hear you say it again, understand?"

"Yes sir." Mark said but still looked like he was unsatisfied.

"Something else on your mind, son?"

"Well, it wasn't just the word, but the way the man was saying it Pa that got me to thinking."

"Who?"

"I told you, the man coming out of the saloon, the one I ran into."

"And just exactly did he say?"

Mark thought carefully trying to remember. "He said that when they found that English bred…." Lucas threw Mark a sharp looked and his son quickly cleared his throat, "you know….that they were gonna be rich."

"That could mean just about anything Mark."

"I know Pa, but it was the _way_ he said it. Like it was a threat or something."

"Who were these men?"

"I don't know. I've never seen them before, but I don't think they were from around here. They were dressed in pretty fancy clothes. What do ya make of it?"

"I have no idea."

"I don't think he was a very nice, Pa" Mark said, remembering the way he had grabbed him. If Micah hadn't intervened Mark was sure the man would have hit him.

"You can't always judge a man by his tone, Mark," Lucas replied. "But there are all kinds of people coming out of those saloons which why I want you to stay away from them." Lucas looked at the clock on the mantel. "It's late and you need to turn in."

"All right," Mark said and scooted off the edge of the chair still in thought. "Goodnight Pa."

"Goodnight son."

After Mark closed the door to the bedroom they shared Lucas shook his head. His son was growing up and some of the questions Mark came up with nowadays were getting harder to explain. It was one of the things about being a single parent Lucas did not envy.


	5. Chapter 5: The Dilemma

(sorry I added a bit more to Chapter 4 after I posted it. It seemed to fit in better there.)

The Outlaw's Widow

Chapter 5: The Dilemma

The next afternoon Lucas rode into town. The day was overcast and cool; the ground still damp with puddles from last night's rain. He had a little time before he needed to meet with Miss Hunter about the broken window so he decided to stop by and bum a cup of coffee off Micah if he was around.

He found the Marshal at his desk going through a stack of wanted posters that had come in from the stage the previous day. He gave Lucas a friendly smile. "Howdy Lucas boy."

"Hi Micah." Lucas came around and sat on the edge of Micah's desk resting the rifle he always carried with him on his lap.

Micah yawned loudly and got up and stretched. "Coffee?"

"That's what I came in for." Micah smiled and handed him a tin cup, then refilled his own, trying to hold back another yawn.

"So why are you looking so tired about?" Lucas asked.

"Had a couple of busy nights lately and haven't got much sleep. Last night couple of cowhands over at Sweeny's decided to duke it out and broke a couple of mirrors. Sweeny was about ready to put some lead into them both before I showed up. Took me the better part of the night to straighten everybody out. Night before I was over at the Madera House."

"Oh, what happened?"

Micah rubbed his right arm which hung stiffly at his side, the result of a gunfight several years back. The cool weather was making his shoulder ache. "Near as I can figure, couple of men tried to break into the hotel safe," Micah said then went on to explain about how the salesman, Carl Browden, had tried to stop them and ended up getting bushwhacked for the effort.

"Anything taken?"

Micah shook his head. "Didn't have time, I suspect. The Judge was in a real uproar about it though."

Knowing Judge Hanoven, Lucas could only agree. "So do you think they'll try again?"

"Not likely, now that they know we're tipped to them. Still I told the Judge I would increase my rounds about the hotel for a while." Micah dug his pocket watch out. "As a matter of fact, it might not be such a bad idea to get up and stretch my legs for a spell. Care to join me?"

Lucas shook his head. "Maybe another time. I'm supposed to meet Miss Hunter after school to fix that broken window."

"Oh yeah, forgot about that." Micah chuckled. "Mark sure didn't seem cotton to that idea of you spending extra time with her."

"I don't see why not. Mark's used to seeing me help people out."

"Not the same. That's his teacher, and a pretty one at that."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Micah smiled. "But maybe the boy feels you're a little _too_ interested?"

"That's ridiculous. I'm only trying to help the lady out. As a member of the town council…."

But Micah quickly put up his hand. "You don't need to convince me, my friend. 'Course Mark might feel a little strange at the whole prospect." Micah deliberately paused then tried to hide his smile behind his coffee cup. He pursed his lips together and tried to sound serious. "So, you plannin' on asking Miss Hunter to the barn dance?"

"So that's what this is about. Are you taking Hattie's side?" Lucas asked leaning towards his friend.

"Just a friendly inquiry."

"Well as a matter of fact I just might."

Micah looked up a little surprised.

"Fact of the matter is, though I would hate to admit it, Hattie might be right. It would be a good opportunity for Miss Hunter to meet everyone in town."

Micah nodded slowly. "And what does Mark think about this?"

"Mark? I haven't said anything to him. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Mmm," was all Micah said.

"All right Micah, why don't you just say what's on your mind."

"I'm just sayin' Mark might feel a little odd you takin' an interest in someone else, especially if that someone else is his teacher. Remember that for quite a long time it's just been you and the boy."

"That didn't seem to stop him before. I remember less than a year after we settled here, the boy tried to marry me off." Indeed, Mark's matchmaking efforts had gotten Lucas in a heap of trouble that time when he tried to pair him up with a little gal half his age with several older and rather overprotective brothers.

"But that was a few years back when he was looking for a mother figure. He's older now and growing up fast."

"Don't I know it," Lucas sighed then told Micah about Mark wanting to know, rather insistently, what the word hussy meant.

Micah chuckled. "Where is tar nation did he hear that?" Lucas explained. Micah's face sobered momentarily then nodded. "Oh, them two."

Lucas' face narrowed. "Why what about them?"

Micah hesitated. He knew Lucas very well, especially when it came to the matters of the boy. Lucas was one very protective father himself and the one thing he disliked intensely is anyone messing with his son.

"What is it?"

Micah sighed. "We'll you'll probably hear about it soon enough." Micah quickly relayed the events. He could see Lucas' face close over and grip the rifle tightly. "I don't expect they'll be giving Mark anymore trouble, though. I already made it clear to them in no uncertain terms. Now you leave it be, hear?" Micah said sternly.

He could see Lucas' jaw clenching. "You make sure they do, Micah, or I will. Why are they here anyway?"

"Don't rightly know. But they're staying over at the Madera House, so I imagine I'll run into them at some point."

Once he and Micah finished their coffee Lucas headed over to Hattie's to pick up the pane of glass. Placing it in the back of the buckboard, he covered it with a piece of canvas so it wouldn't get chipped. It was then he spotted a familiar face coming out of the freight office. He walked along the boardwalk passing a well dressed gentlemen sitting on a bench nearby reading a newspaper.

"Well if it isn't Dave Roberts."

The young man turned and smiled in recognition. "Mr. McCain." The two men shook hands. Dave was several years younger than Lucas and had a ranch outside North Fork on the other side of town. Just last year he'd inherited the entire spread after his father had passed away. Lucas had helped the young man get the place fixed up. He'd even loaned Dave his seed bull to help him get started.

"I haven't seen you in quite a spell." Lucas said. He casually held his rifle at his side.

The younger man smiled. "Can you blame me?"

"Oh, that's right I heard you got yourself married. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Luke. Two months this week."

"So what brings you into town then?"

"I came to pick up a trunk for Julia. She had it shipped here all the way from St. Louis. So, how's Mark?"

"Oh, as busy as ever," Lucas replied. "Can't keep up with the boy half the time."

"You and Mark will have to come by the ranch and taste Julia's apple pie. It's the best in town. I'm trying to talk her into baking one for the dance this Saturday."

"Well speaking for Mark, I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige, though you might not have much left. That boy's going to eat me out of house and home one day."

The two men laughed and exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes until the freight officer came out to tell Dave the trunk was ready to be loaded.

"I better get going. Nice seeing you again Lucas. I'll be bringing Julia to the dance Saturday. Can't wait to show her off to everyone. Still can't believe she agreed to marry me and come way out here."

"Look forward to it Dave," Lucas said and waved goodbye. As Lucas walked away, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the stranger fold his paper, get up and disappear down the street. Lucas had the strangest feeling he'd been watching them.

Smyth found his partner over at Sweeney's seated at one of the card tables. As Smyth approached the table Sinclair looked up. Smyth jerked his head indicating he needed to talk. Finishing his hand, Sinclair met him outside the saloon a few minutes later.

"What's up?"

"I think we finally got lucky friend." Smyth relayed the conversation he overheard outside the freight depot between an overly tall rancher carrying a rather fancy looking rifle and another man named Roberts who just happened to have a new wife by the name of Julia from St. Louis

"Do you think it's her?"

"Sounds like it. Smart move for Julia to dodge us by marrying a two bit farmer and hiding out here. Only one way to find out though."

"What are we going to do?"

"First head back over to the freight office and see just where this Roberts ranch is."

As they walked Sinclair inquired of his partner, "You know that other guy talking to Roberts, the one you said was carrying a fancy rifle?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Smyth asked.

"Did you catch his name?"

Smyth thought a moment. "McCain I think it was."

Sinclair nodded. "I think he must be that brat's old man. You know the one that ran into me with the fish."

"So what of it?"

"I've been talking to some of the locals. Seems this McCain's got quite a reputation with that rifle. They even have a nickname for him. Call him The Rifleman. He and that Marshal are apparently good friends."

"No wonder the Marshal gave us that warning. He certainly didn't look like someone you'd want to oppose. Still, I don't see any problems."

"What if he gets suspicious?"

"What reason would he have? We're just a couple of businessmen, remember, nothing more."

"I still don't like it," Sinclair replied.

"You worry way too much, my friend," Smyth teased.

Sinclair just looked over at his partner sourly, tugging primly on his vest.

Mark was just finishing sweeping up the front porch of the school when his father pulled up in the buckboard. He waved to him. A few seconds later Miss Hunter emerged from the schoolhouse.

Lucas stepped down from the buckboard. "Good afternoon, Mr. McCain," she greeted.

Lucas tipped his hat smiling pleasantly, "Mame."

Mark hovered nearby gripping the broom. "Are you finished Mark?" Miss Hunter asked.

"Yes, Mame. I'll just put these things away in the shed." He hurried off.

"I really do appreciate this, Mr. McCain, but I hope I'm not keeping you from something important. Mark mentioned you had quite a lot of work to do out at your ranch."

"There's always something that needs to be done on a ranch, Mame. But it can wait. I brought the pane to fix the window." Mark returned. "Son, go grab my tool box out of the buckboard."

"All right," he replied and jumped into the back on the wagon.

"But be careful of…." Lucas didn't finish his sentence before Mark heard something crack under his boot. Mark froze and cringed. "The glass," Lucas sighed.

Mark lifted the burlap sack to see what remained of the window pane, his face squinting up. "I'm…I'm sorry Pa," he replied softly looking up at Lucas with large eyes.

Mark could see his father's mouth thin into a straight line. Finally Lucas replied, "It's all right, son. It's my fault. We'll just have to get another one from Hattie." Lucas then turned to the schoolteacher. "Looks like you'll have to wait another day to get the window fixed."

Miss Hunter was trying to supress a smile at the child's expression. "That's quit all right, Mr. McCain."

"Well then I suppose since I can't fix the window I might as well head over to your place and see what needs to be done. That is if you've finished up here."

"Oh, well, yes I am, thank you," she replied, "Um just let me collect my things and I'll be right with you."

A few minutes later Miss Hunter locked up the school and Lucas helped the her aboard while Mark grabbed his sorrel pony and tied the reins to the buckboard before climbing in back. As Lucas set the team in motion, Mark noticed how his father smiled at his teacher when a gust of wind nearly blew her bonnet off and she shyly laughed back. Mark's face turned into a slightly embarrassed frown.

The old Garrison house was just on the edge of town a short walk from the school. Immediately Lucas noticed a few shingles had blown loose. Miss Hunter showed him around the place and Lucas made a note of the needed repairs.

"I sure do appreciate this Mr. McCain," Miss Hunter replied. "When the roof started leaking last night I had a horrible image of running out of pans to catch it all."

Lucas laughed. "Well I guess I should deal with that problem first."

"I think I saw some extra shingles in the tool shed out back if that would help," the schoolteacher offered.

Lucas nodded and was escorted around back with Mark following curiously behind. Lucas, with Mark's help, spent the next few hours repairing the holes in Miss Hunter's roof. When they were finished, Miss Hunter offered them some tea.

"The rest of the roof looks to be in pretty good shape, but let me know if you have anymore leaks." Lucas wrote down a list of supplies she could order from the General Store.

"Thank you, Mr McCain," she said. "I can't believe how helpful everyone's been. Mrs. McPherson and a few of the ladies from the women's auxiliary came by yesterday with a basket of canned goods and fresh bread."

"Have you've found North Fork to your liking so far?"

"Oh yes. It's a charming little town, although I'm afraid I haven't had a whole lot of time to get to know everyone as yet."

"Well there's a social dance this Saturday," Lucas began.

"Um...Pa don't you think we ought to be heading home soon?" Mark interupted.

"In a minute Mark," Lucas replied.

"Yes, to raise books for the school. I thought it was a lovely idea. I'm looking forward to it."

Mark darted a look at his father. "But Pa, I still have to study for that history test you know."

"Mark your interupting," Lucas said sternly. "Besides, I've never known you to be anxious to study for a history test before."

"Well, you said yourself you pay good money every month for me to go to school."

"And so I did," Lucas replied. "Now go and pick up the tools and put them back in the wagon for me and I'll be ready to go in a few minutes." His tone breeched no further disobedience from his son.

"Yes sir," he replied and reluctantly went off to do as he was told.

Miss Hunter couldn't help but smile. "My, he sure is anxious to get back home."

"Yes well, he needs to learn when not to interupt," Lucas replied a little irritably. "Anyway, Miss Hunter, about the dance. As a member of the town council I would be more than happy to escort you, that is if no one else has claimed the privalege already?"

Lucas thought he saw the faintest blush on her face. "Oh...well that is very kind of you, but really I don't want to trouble you."

"No trouble at all mame. It will be my pleasure."

"Well then Mr. McCain, I accept."

"And it's Lucas."

She smiled. "Lucas then, and please call me Anna."

"Anna it is then," Lucas gave her a warm smile back and took a sip of his tea.

It was then, as Mark was loading the toolbox into the wagon, that his friend Matt walked by on the other side of the street with his older brother. He waved at Mark and nearly passed them by when he did a double take as he saw Lucas sitting on the porch smiling at Miss Hunter and sipping tea out of a fancy cup. Matt's eyes widened, and Mark felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment, groaning inwardly.

A few minutes later, his father joined him having said goodbye to his teacher. Mark sat in the wagon stiffly. Lucas looked at his son oddly. "Something a matter son?"

"Can we just go home now?" Mark asked averting his eyes. "I still have my chores to do Pa."

"Yes." Truth of the matter, Lucas did have a lot still to do at the ranch.

When they got back home, the two McCains were kept busy into the evening. By the time the supper dishes were done and Mark had finished his homework it was late. Mark headed for bed while Lucas as usual stayed up a little later reading a book in front of the fire. But Mark couldn't sleep. Instead he laid there thinking of his pa and his schoolteacher.


End file.
